Ten years ago, our daughter generated for herself the nickname "Globet".
It is the sort of obscure name you see on personalised car number plates that makes you wonder what significance it has to the owner.
I do know the derivation of "globet", but it deserves to remain shrouded in mystery.
Last night, in the most vivid of dreams, I discovered a telephone directory entry for "Globet Inc."
A display advertisement of magnitude normally reserved for a major airline or large government department.
Now for me, those who profess to interpret dreams have as much credibility as astrologers. (i.e. very close to zero.)
In this case however, I am prepared to make an exception.
I forsee that I am going to be cared for extremely well indeed during my rapidly approaching autumn years.
I can also see a little red convertible and a penthouse apartment.
And then that retired Aussie supermodel who has been avoiding me for all these years might just change her mind.
And just when I was about to set the final jewels in my crown of fantasy, Mrs GOF had to come in here and ask me what I was thinking about, and would I like a cup of tea.
Now I've lost my train of thought.